Is my cape fluttering?

A little protective

This is my youngest daughter. She's just had a birthday and is now 18. She also has a developmental disability and is now legally an adult. She functions at a much younger age in terms of her interests and social skills. In many areas, she is simply not aware of messages in her environment or what dangers may be present. For this reason, I consider it highly unlikely that she would ever be able to drive. However, I do think she has a number of capabilities that may play in her favor in terms of employment, like her photographic memory.

I've actively avoided discussing her on my blog because she wasn't an adult and my other children are. I also find it difficult to describe her. Not because people wouldn't understand, it just takes more than a few sentences! It's not like having a child with a defined diagnosis, like Down's Syndrome. She's been diagnosed as being mentally retarded (not true in the classic sense) as well as having Pervasive Developmental Disorder (probably true) and a few other terms. At this stage in her life, I'd probably describe her as being on the high functioning end of the Autism spectrum. Mostly, I would just describe her as unique!

While she inspired me to eventually pursue a career in the disability field, she presents a dilemma for TOG and I on how best to help her. As a child, we've always been able to make decisions on her behalf. Now that she's an adult, we can no longer act on her behalf unless we petition the court for continued custody. While this sounds like a no brainer, to do so would have two outcomes... the first being that it would protect her in that she couldn't enter into a contract without our consent and we'd still have authority in situations where we could act in her best interests. Unfortunately, it would repeal every other right as an adult, such as the right to vote or make any significant decision independent of her father and I.

Thus I'm torn. I don't think you should lightly strip anyone's rights away. However, I desperately want to protect my daughter while she learns to navigate the adult world. I wish there were easy answers.

Asthmagirl out

Closure

Because I was thrown so far off course with K2's tonsil the last couple days, I'm abandoning my blog plan for the day and just letting this one flow.

So last you heard, we were getting cleaned up and heading for the doctor yesterday afternoon. No... I posted a comment to say I'd seen the tonsil. Girlfriend could open her mouth far enough. OMG! It was huge. It was no longer pushing her uvula over, but it was all out in the middle of her throat. Her face was swollen, even her ear and neck hurt. This next bit is going to have some detail so skip down if you don't want to read it. There's no way to say this stuff delicately.

*graphic paragraph*Tuesday, the tonsil had been completely coated in white pus. Wednesday morning it had a localized circle of white. The steroids had helped to shrink the tonsil and apparently the infection as well. We were dressed and getting ready to leave when Girlfriend grabbed her little kidney shaped dish from the hospital and started.... emitting. Stuff. Lots of it. And the smell! Horrendous. OMG. Her tonsil abscess ruptured before we could even leave the house. I've never seen anything like it. She checked on the way to the doctor's and the white circle was gone. Thus the doctor declared that it was not an abscess, just tonsillitis. We tried to explain what had happened, but I think we came off as a little dramatic and overly concerned (you really had to be there to see what had come out). However he did note that he would be willing to remove her tonsils later this year after everything had cleared up.

The lungs appear to be back on track after missing the one dose Tuesday night. I'm a little surprised that they even reacted because they're usually so stable in the summer. But even last week when I tried reducing the inhaled steroids, they were complete toads so I guess I'll be nurturing them for a while yet. I was just really surprised to blow a yellow zone peak flow yesterday morning. I did it three times to be sure. So I used my stronger inhaler yesterday and this morning I'm back at the top of my green zone. Where is my stability? These things used to be like a rock in the summer. Now they're like a rock sinking to the bottom of a pond! Stupid lungs.

And the leg. It is the best it's been in months. Seriously. I didn't want to rush to that conclusion, but I've completed the antibiotics and it's doing well. I no longer walk like a cast member of Deadliest Catch! So I tested it Monday and took it for a bike ride. A quick three miles at 12 miles per hour. No, I'm not a big dummy. I just figure if it's going to act up, lets do it now while the surgeon is waiting to hear. Because if the leg is going to behave, I'm going to start working it... bike rides, hiking, and I plan to start running. If it can't hold up to that level of activity, now is the time to address it, not mid July when I plan to be using it a lot more (assuming the lungs are along for the ride!). The last thing I want to have happen is to plan a big alpine hike with TOG and have the leg wimp out.

Finally, I want to take a moment to thank someone for helping me out. When I called her on the way to the hospital, she totally had my back. Got on-line, found the map to the hospital, helped me make some decisions about keeping other family in the loop and made me laugh! K1 can really be a rock. And she probably doesn't get the recognition she deserves for being level headed. Truly, she ought to be bronzed. Except that might hurt!

Hopefully back to our regularly scheduled programming tomorrow. (such as it is) And I'm really going to try to get food porn this week! Have a wonderful day!

Asthmagirl out!

Girl Interrupted

We interrupt our regularly scheduled programing .... well, because we can. We're Editor-in-chief! I pretty much had the remaining posts this week planned, but I love the spontaneity of throwing the plans in the air and going with what's happening. First of all, the disclaimers:

• I'm running on not very much sleep
• My lungs are extremely crabby
• I don't have a lot of coffee in the system yet

And now for the back story. K2 is possibly the daughter most like me (poor dear). She got my long, skinny stork legs, stubborn nature and delicate stomach... some of which will come into play later!! She also appears to be sporting her own chronic condition which in her case, would be a funky throat. I can't tell you how many infections, swollen glands and strep she's had over the last 5-6 years. So much so that we've become a bit jaded. Much like my lungs acting up, we view a flare up of her throat as just another wrinkle in the fabric of the universe. The unfortunate aspect to all these infections is that according to the medical community, she's never had enough infections or enough in a one year period to justify removing her funky tonsils. Apparently the rule of thumb is four in one year. In her senior year, she had four cases of strep in 14 months which was just outside the standard. Seriously.

As you might imagine by now, the little dear began another funky throat a few weeks ago. She waited to see if it would clear up (finals week in nursing school so she didn't have time to go in!) and then the day after finals she went to the doctor. She failed the rapid strep so they weren't sure what kind of infection it was but because of her history they put her on antibiotics anyway. She asked for the liquid amoxicillin because her throat was so sore. So she keeps getting worse and Monday night TOG and I were both telling her to shag her butt back to the doctor because seriously, she could barely open her mouth.

Yesterday afternoon, she texts me from the doctor with this message: "They're sending me to the ER because my tonsil is abscessed and I need IV antibiotics and they're going to drain it" This is where my cape begins fluttering big time. I had one tiny moment in which I wondered if she would need me (she's 22) and then I didn't care. I needed to be there for her. So off I went to tell my boss I was missing our afternoon meeting and then screech my tires as I left the parking lot!

There was the usual requisite waiting in ER, even on a Tuesday afternoon. K2 and I did two things to pass the time... 

1. I kept telling the nurses that she was in nursing school, because I figured there's a professional courtesy there.... when she says her pain level is at a 9, they should understand she's not being melodramatic (much).
2. She has cue cards and keeps writing down what other people have. Something like this "He has a-fib. heart beating 2 fast. They're going to check his enzymes... EKG. I still have a brain even if I can't talk"

Finally, after she diagnosed everyone in the waiting room, they get us back in a treatment room, and lucky us, we get the best ER doctor I've ever met. He asks questions and I recite what's she's told me to say via hand signals, lip reading, a lifted eyebrow and other means on non verbal communication.

After four shots of morphine, a huge dose of antibiotics, a mega dose of IV steroids and a follow up shot of anti nausea (girlfriend's delicate stomach cannot handle morphine well), the excellent doctor determined that he cannot open her mouth far enough to drain anything. The infection encompasses a very large area. He hopes the steroids will bring down the inflammation enough that she can open her mouth so they can drain it in the morning. They gave her enough morphine to last her until midnight and then sent her home with all the appropriate drugs. We're going back this morning to get it drained. We slept downstairs on the sofa which was not that restful as the only thing she can eat to take her meds is runny cream of wheat. I made the last batch at 4:45 am and she's sleeping again.

The ear, nose and throat dude opens up shop in an hour, so I'm going to go clean up and take my meds which I forgot last night (hence the grumpy lungs). I'm toying with trying to take a shot of her tonsil just for fun. I am a sick, sick woman.

Asthmagirl out!

What's your name...? Who's your Daddy?

I put off my father's day blog because I needed a little extra time to sort out how I wanted to record this. I've had the privilege of reading a variety of posts that dealt with recognizing many wonderful fathers and husbands. Here is my contribution:

If we described my mom as distant, uninterested and detached, we could easily describe my dad as committed and distracted. Hampered by the FAA's constant demands for shift work that would have made a saint weep for sleep, my father spent at least half of his off time recovering from sleep deprivation. When my father was available, he could, with one glance sort the slackers from the achievers and deal with them accordingly. He was steadfast, predictable and unconcerned with the softer emotions. His moral compass was guided by logic, outcomes and the desire to raise unspoiled kids.

When my mother determined to go to college, it was my dad that stepped up to the plate and taught me to cook. He made a mess of braiding my hair, and made my ability to understand math his life's purpose for the entire fifth grade. Unhampered by little niceties like compassion and patience, he pushed his standards with an unwavering insistence. He taught me to read schematics, fix a car, cook a steak, understand football and enjoy fishing. During high school, one of my aptitude tests indicated that I should be an jet engine mechanic. This was based on my tool recognition and my understanding of engine systems.

He was the exact opposite of my mother, in many ways. When they separated and divorced, it was my dad that remained in contact with me... My dad that helped me plan my wedding to TOG (which my mother crashed)... My dad that became the stable influence for my kids. My dad that watched K1 and K2 while I was in the hospital delivering K3.

I called him on Father's day when he got back in town, and we had a pretty good conversation. I did not laugh when he said he was turning into a crotchety old bastard. Some people might have leaped on that and affirmed it... I just let it go. But when he told me I was like my mother... things heated up a little! Last night, he called me back to say he misspoke... that I was stubborn like my mother and that's where the resemblance ended. He shared a story my mom shared with him after their divorce and how one gentleman  she's been dating for a few months asked her to marry him. He had a daughter and my mom told my dad she turned him down... because she didn't want to be anyone's mother. It made my dad sad to hear it, but he said it reaffirmed to him that he still wanted to be an involved parent, even with adult kids.

I'm fortunate to have had my dad all these years. He's not a saint, not perfect, sometimes not even tolerable. He has rusty social graces, salty language, pants that can't stay up (no butt) and defines the word "opinionated". But he's also dedicated, honest, forthright and nowadays... loving. The one charactoristic my dad had that set him apart was "intent". He wanted to parent well and so he did, using the skills that he had. He gave me some great skills and experiences and taught me some very meaningful things. I'm really, really lucky to have him for a dad.

 

Happy (belated) Father's Day!

Asthmagirl out!

Smiles

I'm smiling this morning as I read the responses to my weather woes. I think it's interesting that other folks are bemoaning all the variations of weather in their area as well! It's a reminder that I should be counting my blessings, because all too soon, I'll be sweaty and grumpy!

No food porn today. TOG and I did indeed go to the pub last night but I didn't take the camera. We went downtown last night to a comedy festival and I didn't want tote the camera along and I'd never feel okay about leaving it in the car. So I traveled light.

The festival itself was quite funny although I made it through without an inhaler. Not so afterward when we had to wade through the bank of smokers outside. Compounding the situation is all the diesel and exhaust downtown. I know it's the price I pay for stepping out of my traditional haunts, and I'm willing to pay the price now and then. But it always leaves me wondering... how do people live downtown? I realize that I'm like a canary in a mine (as Amy says) in that I'm the first one to start coughing and wheezing. But that doesn't mean the air is good for the rest of the folks down there.

I may be pretty sensitive to that right now. I had an interesting discussion with my dad a couple nights ago in which he revealed that he hasn't seen any evidence of global warming and he doesn't think that my efforts at recycling or conserving are going to make any difference in terms of clean air. Of course, I told him that nothing else makes sense. I can't affect what anyone else on the planet does, but because I struggle to breath, I can't just go about my business and say screw it. This conversation rapidly went south as he promoted drilling in ANWAR and I suggested that we invest in alternate energy choices since petroleum was a finite resource. We stopped shy of name calling once we got to the air quality of Shanghai and Beijing. I think we just baffle each other. He can't believe I won't come to Phoenix to see him (dreadful air quality)  and I can't believe he doesn't get what a big deal breathing is to my lungs. It's been five years... Ah well. He has many other wonderful qualities (aside from being stubborn and bull headed)

Plan for today: if the weather breaks, we'll hike. If not, we'll clean the garage. Guess what I'm hoping for?!

Asthmagirl remembers

This is my Grampy.

This was taken in Florida during World War 2. Although almost too old to serve, Grampy enlisted and ended up being a classroom trainer for those flying B 52s (I think). He met my Grammy in Florida and wooed her with the help of pink sand beaches and beautiful sunsets. My dad's dad had died right before the war and my Dad and Aunt were staying in Oklahoma with my great Grammy. (Although my dad says he went out to Florida for one year and remembers eating pineapple sandwiches at school).

After the war, they all moved back to Oregon (where Grampy was from). They bought a little cabin near the beach and Grampy went to work spinning platters at the closest radio station which was in Tillamook (Land of Cheese, Trees and Ocean Breeze). The music was on 78 size records and was everything from Tommy Dorsey and Glen Miller to polkas... which the cows reportedly loved during milking. My dad always called it Swiss Family Fern Feeler. Grampy often drove their one old car through flooded creeks and winter storms to open the radio station and do news, weather and music for the local dairy men.

In the 1950's Grammy and Grampy moved to Portland and bought a tiny one bedroom cottage. Grampy and his brother invested in a wine and beer importing business and worked there for many years. With no fanfare, Grammy and Grampy used to make meals for the homeless and distribute them on the downtown streets during holidays. They moved back to the beach when Grampy retired and amused themselves with gardening (mole ranching as Grammy called it) and making apple juice popsicles for the grand babies.

My best memories of my Grampy were him taking us to the "sand hill" down at the beach and buying us ice cold bottles of Dad's root beer which he always had waiting at the bottom when we tumbled down. He always took the heat when he brought me back to the cabin with sand in my hair, the ultimate sin to my sand hating Grammy! He also did great whale impersonations in the ocean where he would roll over and spout water way up the air.

I still have his original leather bomber jacket.

I know Memorial Day was originally supposed to be for the fallen but I cant help remembering a great guy, one of many who served and did wonderful things with no fanfare....

Happy Memorial Day

The Joys of Motherhood!

The anticipation of a victim playmate!

The Carefully posed photos next to the ride 'em horsey!

The unmitigated Joy (and the hypnotized stare of someone watching He Man or She-ra)!

The celebrations!

The horrendous clothes and bad hair!

Getting "Gomered up" in Opa's hat and glasses!

The cute faces!

And the unexpected moments caught on camera....

So much as changed... but y'all filled my heart in unexpected ways! It's been a wild ride at times, but I'm so glad I got to be your mom! Thanks for playing "let's make mom laugh and cry over old photos on Mother's day while we sleep in instead of making her breakfast"!

I love mothering this tribe!

Happy Mother's Day!

Is your Mama a Llama?

This is actually one of my favorite books. It brings back fond memories and it's one of the names my girls call me today (at least to my face) that makes me feel loved. I adore being called Llama... it means the girls have at least one frivolous thing they want to tease me about... other than the pineapple upside down cake episode or my dreadful singing. It's a symbol of something I might have done right when they were kids.

We're approaching one of the most uncomfortable times of the year for me. I don't think I've ever put it into words before, but if I were prone to hives, Mother's Day would do it for me. If I were Superman, this would be my kryptonite...

The whole celebration of everything that should be lovely about being a mom... honoring your mother... being honored by your kids- assuming that you've done your job; equal parts of love and consistency mixed with the occasional doses of guilt and public humiliation. Check, check, check and check... at least on my part. Maybe a little heavy on that last one...!

When I think about my mom, I don't have those things. I have a disconnect, a bare spot... a void. I'm not saying that my mom was a dreadful person, she could be quite charming when the mood was upon her. She even had moments when you felt that she truly cared. But ultimately, she wasn't capable of sustaining those moments and they were lost among the incidents of apathy and indifference. My mom just wasn't capable of an emotional connection, of showing affection, at least with me.

And it's not that I don't understand her; after years of trying, I have a fairly good grasp of why and how she became who she was. It's a kind observation in saying she probably wasn't cut out to be a mother, even though in the 1950's that was what society expected of her. And even though she showed some interest in being a grandmother, ultimately she wasn't capable of being there for my girls either, or their cousins. Unfortunately her walking away left them with some of the same doubts and insecurities she bequeathed to me.

As a mother, it made me very tentative and unsure. I did not want to duplicate my mom's efforts but I didn't have great examples to follow. It also left me very clear that whatever mistakes I made would come home to roost and I really wanted kids that would visit me in my old age!

When I see other women with their mothers, I confess to a certain amount of "mother envy" because a part of me still really wishes for some portion of that idealized relationship, at least a sliver of it. I wonder what it would be like to have someone that you could reach out to... someone that was interested, who would have teased you or offered advice whether you wanted it or not, who might have hugged you when they saw you...

I make sure I do that with my girls. Whether they like it or not...and sometimes they don't. Because I love them and also because I don't want them to have that void where love should be. What I've really learned about mothering is that there are rarely substitutions. As much as I adore my step mother and my mother in law and even my beloved aunt... nothing replaces what you wished you'd gotten from your mom... a pattern to follow, a confidence, a patience, an ease of delivery. I didn't get those and yes, I've lurched along until I reached some level of grace in delivering those things, but I hope when my children look back at my legacy, they can say they got them from me. 

Along with the whopping big cheeks!

Can it be next week already?

An unexpected Saturday

Worry not, more letters are in the offing. Please be patient with me as I deal with my chaotic weekend. Again, please note that if you'd like to vote again, go for it. You do not have to be a commentor to be a voter! Currently it looks as though I'll be writing that letter to my neighbor... or publishing one that I have already written and delivered to him!

So... K2 has my old Honda Accord. She acquired it when I bought my car in 2004. Bottom line, the car is 13 years old, has a 175,000 miles on it and last weekend it treated us to the ever popular "melt the wireharness" spectacle under the hood. This resulted in some electrical issues that have yet to be fixed. As I was telling her fella, I worry that "Old Smokey" is gonna strand her somewhere, and despite my best efforts, K2 remains remarkably unmechanical! That, and her car is the one they take when they go on their trips over the mountains. It's been considered the more reliable of their two cars and it gets great gas mileage!

So here's the plan they came up with... bear in mind that he's at the very end of his electricians apprenticship and she still has a year and half of nursing school left and works pt as a barista. They'll find her a decent car. He'll make the car payments until she can take over. We'll buy the car with her and as a jointly owned car, she can still get dirt cheap insurance through us. After she finishes school, they plan to move out and marry but that's still a ways off and they're not picking out flowers yet or anything. I spoke with her guy about things like them imploding and then what and he just felt like they'd never have a problem resolving the car if it didn't work out between them. In the meantime, she'd have a reliable car and they'd have something decent to drive when they go to visit his family on the other side of the state. He'll take Old Smokey and rehab it and either drive as a commuter car or sell it to recoupe the down payment he'll put down on her car.

So we went car shopping. I hate car shopping. I hate talking to salesmen and making the same points over and over... "reliable, low mileage, reasonably priced. That car is not reasonably priced" or "Charactor yes, that car looks like someone beat it with a chain and it's only two years old. That's beyond charactor". And why do they act so damn puzzled when you ask about maintenance records? I've never sold a car that I didn't provide all the reciepts for work done in the glove box. I cannot be the only person on the planet that does this? Can I?

Finally we came home and the kids napped and ate tacos and came to a conclusion. The first dealership had the best prices, the least psychotic sales crew and a couple of cars we were interested in. So off we went again, only this time without TOG. We looked at both cars, test drove one and then went in and I told them what we'd pay for the car. They got cheeky with me and told me I was being silly. I was clear... this is what I will pay, this is my down, this is the payment I want with this length of loan. If I can't get that, that's fine. We'll look at something else. They came out with a counter offer and it wasn't what I wanted. We talked amongst ourselves and decided to move on. They had another car we were interested in for less money.

When we declined, the booth filled up with people, the sales manager, 2 finance guys, the sales person. "We really want to sell you this car, what would it take"? I let k2's fella take it for a minute then barged in.

"We want the original length of loan and payments no higher that this." (I made it even lower than than the kids were thinking)

"If I can do that will you buy the car"

"You already said this was your best offer. (points to offer sheet) In order to get the payment and loan term right, you'd have to significantly cut the cost of the car"

"What if I could do that"

"Lets see it in writing"

They left to go talk amongst themselves and I told the kids "You are about to see a deal. There's no way they can do this without a significant reduction. You have to be aware that you will not see a better deal than this. Do not hesitate" They came back with a hell of an offer. The kids took the deal and it's over. Thank goodness.

The car is a 2007 Accord LX. Not a lot of extras, but it had 51 miles on it. Yeah... 51 miles. Being sold as a used car. It WAS cheeky of me to negotiate down a car with 51 miles on it that's in perfect shape! The dealer bought it as a loaner car, but never used it and they had been making payments on it since October 07. They wanted it out of there. They originally had it at 24,999 then had it on sale for 21,999. I told them I wouldn't go over 21 flat. Blue book retail was 21,435. They came back with 21,500 and ended up selling it to us for 20K. It still has all of it's warranty. Life is good!

K2's new car and old car sitting side by side. And our boy cat, The Slayer.

Asthmagirl out!   

The name game

When TOG and I realized that we were having a baby (that'd be you K1) we went through a very entertaining time of trying to figure out a name for said child. If you are a parent, you will know how vital it is to pick out the perfect name for your progeny. Too prissy and your kid gets beat up on the playground. Too dorky and they end up in chess club with a pocket protector (not that there's anything wrong with that). Too strange and no one can say it correctly.

On top of that, we have a somewhat challenging last name name in terms of lots of syllables.... lets say it's very similar to Mulligan. There's a rhythm to saying the name... it has to flow.

With the ground work laid, here's how things went. We started out wanting to work with family names combining his family and mine.

Mothers names- Lila Juanita (gasp) or Anna May, now add Mulligan- this would be cruel

Grandmother's names- Lucille Irvina or Pansy Patricia... we could not do that to a kid. Who named them?

Great Grandmother's name- Mabel Mary. Can you imagine. Mabel Mary Mulligan. The kid would have been beaten soundly every day on the bus.

The boy names were a little better.

Fathers- Curtis Leroy... I can't go any further, I'm stopping there. It sounds like a NASCAR driver. Add to that my father kept asking me to name him Bubba because then he'd have to play football. Can you imagine... Bubba Leroy? Ha, ha, ha!! (ahem) No possible way!

Grandfather- Albert Louis... Never mind.

So we decided to do our own thing. The only criteria was that it could not be shortened to some horrendous nickname nor could it include the name of a flower. The Nix list:

TOG seriously wanted to name the kid Jesse James Mulligan. That was right out. We discussed Denise but there was already a cousin. We thought about Ann or Anna but were unispired.

We finally decided on Christopher as a boy name. Back then you didn't know what you were having.... As you know, we had a girl. Her name starts with a K. I'll leave it up to her whether she wants to reveal her name. As you know, I don't out people unless they're on board. I will say that given feedback from the kid, we didn't do as good a job as we hoped. Which sucks, because we spent a butt load of time trying to find just the right name.

The second girl would have been David. I don't know why Christopher wouldn't have worked the second time, but I hated it. My hormone level must have been different. She came darn close to being Lindsey but in the end, We named her after a famous TV Actor. (not actress... actor)

The third time, we knew at about 7 months that it was another girl. It was very difficult, because we inadvertently had two kids named with K's. You can't really go with Susan or Alice at that point but we didn't want to go with three K names and be dorky. However, that's exactly what we did. K3 is named after a character in book. As I was recovering from the c-section, TOG said I could name her whatever I wanted. I blame the painkillers. That's my story and I'm sticking to it.

How did you name yours (if you have any).

And K1, I'm still sorry. We really thought we'd done a good job!